


It's All Smoke, There's No More Fire

by misha_collins_butt



Series: I Knew I Loved You [23]
Category: The 100
Genre: But not in the sexy way, Choking, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, M/M, Smut, and it's mostly dialogue, angst & fluff, but John Murphy is a man without fears, except like octopuses maybe, i have a feeling he doesn't much like the ocean, it's initially meant to be threatening, like trying to figure everything out, oh yeah, okay so they talk, the smut happens at the beginning, there's smut in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: In which Murphy's interrogation of Octavia is misinterpreted by Bellamy as flirting, and consequentially, Murph and Bell find themselves in a tense situationOrThe one where Bellamy choking Murphy turns into soft smut
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy, John Murphy/Bellamy Blake, Murphamy, murphy/bellamy
Series: I Knew I Loved You [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/215984
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	It's All Smoke, There's No More Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole by Martha Wainwright
> 
> I don't know why I wrote this lmao I've just been having a lot of feels

Bellamy's hand wraps around Murphy's throat and slams him back against the wall.

"You better have a damn good explanation for flirting with my sister, you creep," he growls in the younger man's blank face.

"I wasn't flirting, she was helping me," Murphy replies, apparently entirely unaffected by being choked.

"Right," Bell jeers, inching closer. "What the hell would she help you with?"

Murphy is silent for a long moment before admitting, "I needed advice. On how to get your attention."

For a split second, Bell's face drops in confusion but then he's angry again and spitting, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Murphy just stares back at him emotionlessly. Eyes flicker to Bell's lips. Back up, obviously hoping he wasn't too obvious.

Understanding dawns on him and his hand just barely loosens around Murphy's neck, grip faltering.

Hesitantly, still fuming, Bell jerks forward and lands a rough peck on Murphy's lips. Huffing, he pulls away and glances up to see shocked infatuation in Murphy's eyes, all the confirmation he needs. It pushes Bell to lean in and kiss him again, softer this time, lingering just briefly. 

And then as their breaths puff against each other's skin, Bellamy releases his grip on Murphy's throat and slots their lips together, kissing him slow and languid and a little messy. Murphy makes a little noise of approval and it prompts Bell to tease his tongue into the younger man's mouth, which Murphy eagerly accepts, finally throwing his arms around Bell's neck to hang from him like moss on a cliffside.

Suddenly, Bell's hands develop a mind of their own, and they race down Murphy's body, from his jaw, over his neck, across his ribs and waist, brushing his hips and then plant themselves beneath each thigh and scoop Murphy up, holding him against the wall, this time in greedy desire.

Their lips are desperate now, fingers pulling at hair and clothes and bruising skin, so Bellamy carries Murphy across the crashed Ark's room to John's bed and drops him onto it, never breaking from their kiss.

That is, until he's pressed flush against the young delinquent, hovering over him with Murphy's legs wrapped tightly around his hips and Bell's knee bent and pressing into the mattress, top of his thigh to the underside of Murphy's.

That's when they stop for a second to stare at each other and finally realise what just happened.

Anxiety tears at Bell's stomach so he panics and coughs awkwardly, moving to stand and leave. 

But.

But as he does start to stand, his unwanted erection pushes against Murphy's and they both gasp as Bell collapses back down, lips to John's ear and shaky arms holding him up with heaving shoulders. They just breathe like that for a long time until Bellamy gets the courage to turn his head and look Murphy in the eyes, unspoken question in his bent features.

Slowly, uncertainly, Murphy nods. Bell exhales with relief and attaches their lips again, experimentally rolling their hips together.

The pressure feels unbelievable. They sigh into each other's mouths and prodding hands quickly plant themselves against skin and muscle beneath shirts as they writhe against each other in pure, ecstatic, inexperienced lust.

Eventually, though, the friction isn't enough. Bellamy growls again and roughly rips Murphy's pants open, along with his own, grasps their cocks together and just goes to town, letting his lips find Murphy's neck with the other man breaks away to exclaim in surprise and pleasure. Bell simply pumps his hand between them and sucks purple marks into Murphy's skin.

Lewd sounds tear from Murphy's throat, moans and gasps and whimpers, as he clings to Bellamy with heels digging into the muscle of Bell's lower back. He throws his head back as he feels his climax curling around his tailbone, hips now bucking up to meet Bellamy's rhythm. 

"Bell," Murphy whispers, cut by a sharp inhale and nails carving crescents into Bellamy's back. "I'm gonna--"

Murphy convulses and tosses his arm up over his face to bite down on it as he wails out his orgasm. John's still shuddering when Bellamy detaches himself from his throat and levels his gaze with the younger man's, a sudden recognition flooding his heart. He stares with wide, awestruck eyes, unsure what to say or do next, not with this realisation flooding his veins.

Murphy wheezes, "Did you...?" And when Bellamy near imperceptibly shakes his head to indicate, no, he did not yet, Murphy begins to reach down and says, "Let me."

But Bellamy stops him quickly and Murphy gives him a quizzical look.

"Say that again," Bellamy murmurs, surveying the angles of Murphy's face, petting his hand back over the boy's sweat-soaked hair. "My name. How you just said it - say it again."

With some confused reluctance, Murphy breathes, "Bell."

That's when understanding really hits Bellamy like a punch to the gut. He exhales sharply, removes himself from the tangle of hair and limbs, and turns to leave, stuffing himself back in his pants and muttering, "I have to go."

He doesn't look back.

\----

Murphy is draped on a tree branch, one leg dangling over a lower limb and the other bent up with his elbow resting on the knee, and his other arm hanging limply from that one, nails tracing lines in his skin. He leans his head back against the tree's trunk and scatters his gaze across the dangerous river below and the shore on the other side where Jasper was once speared in the chest by the grounders.

But his current thoughts are preoccupied with other things. Like why the fuck he can't get the taste of Bellamy Blake out of his head, can't shake the feeling of those strong, capable hands grappling him onto the bed and making him come harder than he ever has before with no more than a few touches.

It's been on his mind for days now. He eventually got so fed up with having to think about it around other people that he took off into the woods with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flask of water. Hours later, he's still trying to clear his conscience of what happened.

A booted gait snapping twigs makes him swivel his head back to the woods, just in time to catch sight of a furious Bellamy. Surely out here reprimand him.

He makes no motion to remove himself from the tree, though, stubborn as he is.

But Bellamy doesn't even seem to know he's there. The older man walks right out to the edge of the rocky shore and just stands there for a long time, overlooking the water. Then, with sudden rage, he fists his hands and screams across the break in the forest. 

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?!" Bellamy cries, and Murphy flinches as the camp leader rams his hand without hesitation against a large boulder at his side. 

Immediately, Bellamy drops to his haunches and cradles his hand to his chest, head sagging between his knees. He stays that way for what seems like an eternity before unfolding himself and staring at the river with a determination that Murphy absolutely does not like the look of.

The older man kicks his boots from his feet, yanks his shirt up over his head, and backs up a few feet, evidently trying to get a running start. 

Jesus, what did that mother feed these Blake children, steroids and crazy juice? Or is the whole family just suicidally impulsive by nature?

Before Bellamy can get more than two steps forward, Murphy comes to his senses and shouts, "Hey!" and Bellamy stumbles and goes sprawling onto the stone surface beneath him. He scrambles to roll over and his eyes find Murphy's face with a stunned look. Murphy adds, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" and Bellamy's face softens momentarily.

But then he's back to looking furious and he snarls, "How long have you been there?"

Murphy just rolls his eyes and finally decides it's time to hop down. He lands nimbly on the balls of his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Longer than you," he retorts. Not his best comeback, but in his defence, he's sort of flustered seeing Bellamy shirtless and huffing in anger. He approaches without regard for possible attack. Then again, they did just nearly fuck not four days ago. Extends his hand, eyes flitting to the left sheepishly. Hesitantly, Bellamy takes the offer and Murphy pulls him up, and suddenly they are unbearably close and Bellamy is still half naked and fucking shit damn fuck. Though Bellamy stares with big, sparkling eyes and parted lips for a second, he breaks with a sharp inhale, clears his throat and backs away, averting his gaze. Murphy's heart sinks. But his own eyes catch on Bellamy's injured hand, blueish bruises already blooming. "What are you doing out here punching boulders, anyway?" The question comes without warning, and so does Murphy's arms moving of their own accord and his fingers wrapping around the hand. Bellamy tries to resist at first but Murphy shoots him a death glare and commands, "Stop. Let me see it."

Obediently, Bellamy allows Murphy to examine the scrapes on his misshapen knuckles, tear a cloth from his belt, and begin wrapping the wounds. 

Softly, slipping past Bellamy's lips, the word, "Sorry."

It stuns Murphy into stillness. He looks up to find Bellamy's gentle, mildly terrified gaze back on him again.

"For what?" Murphy questions, genuinely not quite sure what this is about. But Bellamy doesn't answer, just looks away once more and tugs his hand back. Turns to go. Murphy catches him by the shoulder and firmly orders, "Stop. What's going on? Why the hell won't you talk to me?" Bellamy still remains quiet. Mulish pretty boy. Golden heart and obstinate head, all enveloped in a warm brown robe of curly chocolate hair and pine tree irises. Murphy lets his grip loosen, but doesn't give up. "Will you just talk to me? Please?" His voice breaks on that but he pushes forward, ignoring the sick feeling in his gut about being this vulnerable. "It's been hell without you. Everyone else at camp is a miserable jackass. So, just...please?"

Begging. He's been reduced to begging. But maybe that's his own fault, like most everything else that goes wrong.

Finally, Bellamy turns around, eyes down, and Murphy's hand slips from his arm.

As they face each other, Murphy drags himself closer, flipping his own gaze down to Bellamy's hand. When he looks back up, his counterpart has this strange, ginger look on his face, like he wants to reach out and touch Murphy but is resisting the urge.

"What?" Murphy demands, not backing away. "Don't look at me like that." Maybe he says that just a bit too forcefully. Bellamy starts to backpedal again but Murphy stops him by abruptly blurting, "Is this about what happened...the other day?"

That captures Bellamy's attention. 

In nothing louder than a breath, Bellamy rasps, "Yes. No. Sort of."

Murphy exhales a frustrated sigh and says, "Well, which is it?" 

Bellamy sighs, eyes scanning the tree tops. And suddenly he's pulling Murphy in by the waist and the space between them diminishes to nothing as Bellamy tilts his head and slides their lips together. 

It's gentle and caressing and absolutely nothing like what they did earlier this week, and Bellamy's fingers are so unsure ghosting over Murphy's jaw and brushing through his hair and it's like Murphy's first kiss in grade nine all over again. As if acting on instinct, his arms come up again and loop loosely around Bellamy's neck as he opens his mouth and allows the older man to twist their tongues. A shiver spiders out from his chest where it presses to Bellamy's, tightening his skin and raising his hair.

When finally they pull away, Murphy breathes, "What was that for?" as he searches Bellamy's eyes.

As soft as the clouds above them, Bellamy replies, "I'm in love with you."

Then, he promptly spins around, releasing Murphy, and walks over to his shoes. Stomps them on and snatches his shirt from the ground.

What. The fuck.

"Wh...h-hold on," Murphy calls after him and rushes over to stop him by the shoulders. Bellamy's face is unreadable where, moments ago, he'd had the universe written across his cheeks. "Hey, idiot, you can't just drop that on a guy and then leave. What the fuck, dude?"

"Let me go," is all Bell chokes out, barely audible over the wind rustling the leaves overhead.

"No!" Murphy plants himself directly in Bellamy's path and crosses his arms. "No way in hell. Not until you talk--"

"What more is there to say, John?!"

Murphy's lips peel apart. It's incredibly rare to hear anyone address him by his first name, much less Bellamy Blake.

Just a tickle across his tongue, Murphy says, "How about you start with why you didn't tell me four days ago when you figured this out...Bell."

Bellamy seems utterly shocked both by the use of the nickname and by Murphy's observational skills.

"I...don't know," Bellamy whispers, guard falling once more. "I guess I'm a coward."

Murphy shakes his head. Without looking Bellamy in the eye, lands his hand on Bell's hip as the other curls around the back of the taller man's neck.

"Say it again," Murphy mirrors what the other man asked of him days ago. Watches the same confusion and then understanding. Waits with bated breath and steely eyes locked on sparkling sepia souls. His podium of resilience has never been of greater use to him than in this very moment.

Without missing a beat Bell mumbles, "I'm in love with you."

Murphy just nods for a moment, gently.

"Why?" That's all he can ask.

Fleetingly, Bell's eyes flash with more bafflement, but he quickly catches on to Murphy's intent and he responds, "Besides O, you're the only other person around here who gets what it's like to have to take care of your family." Murphy raises a highly sceptical brow and waits for the real answer. Bellamy's skin flushes rosy pink, illuminating his freckles. "I just...you're not what everyone thinks you are. You act like you're so indifferent and above it all, but then you...you go off doing and saying these things that you wouldn't do and say unless you cared. And maybe I feel like...like I learned from you. Because I used to be that way, all cynical and shit. But it wasn't an act for me. You were kind when no one was looking and it made you a good person and I hated you at first for that, because I...I couldn't stand the thought that you were better than me. But then you..." Bell switches his gaze to the left and sighs heavily before continuing. "Do you remember that night in the dropship, a couple weeks after we landed, when I was sleeping alone on the floor upstairs?"

The memory flares up momentarily, playing out in front of Murphy's eyes like a video, and he nods vaguely, whispering, "I went up there to pass out but you were already there. I didn't want to bother you, so I left."

"Do you remember what you did before you left, though?" Bell's fingers squeeze Murphy's waist as the older man shifts closer, gauging Murphy's reaction as the younger slowly starts wondering how _Bellamy_ remembers any of this since he was asleep. Murphy's eyebrows jump down briefly and he shakes his head; he doesn't remember. A lot of the time he's spent around Bellamy lives in his memories as blurs of russet shapes and muffled words and incomprehensible pangs of longing. Bellamy reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind Murphy's ear, a tiny, reverent smile lifting his lips. "You came and put a blanket on me. Made sure it covered my whole body. Then you left my jacket folded up next to me. That was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me on this stupid planet."

Recognition swarms through Murphy's head as the images become clearer and he stares up at Bellamy in astonishment. "You were awake," he states, bones shaking beneath his unresponsive nerves as Bellamy nods, guilt flickering through his wet-soil eyes. Murphy blinks down and examines Bell's naked chest, solid and warm just like he thought it would be, and murmurs, "You looked so cold. I didn't want you to have to get up and find a blanket in the middle of the night." But it still doesn't make sense to him. It was so small - in fact, compared to all they've been through since, it was practically microscopic. He looks back up, not ready to accept that as the answer. "That can't be it."

Bellamy's smile falls slowly as he regards Murphy with fascinated, praiseful eyes. Then he relents, "You're smarter than anyone I know--" and Murphy scoffs at that, alarmed by the possibility that Bellamy doesn't know about his lack of education. "No, just listen. Okay? I don't know anyone else who can survive this place like you do. Every time this planet has tried to kill you...including the role I played in that..." Murphy swallows hard, not ready to remember that one. "Every time, you fought back and came out the other side stronger and kinder than before. You...amaze me. I just...I couldn't figure out what it was before, but I noticed I'm always happier around you. And the other day when you said my name like that, I-I finally understood. And it scared the shit outta me."

Murphy breathes out a bitter laugh and says, "Yeah, that's the reaction you probably should be having. I'm no doctor, but I think we can safely say your brain is working fine if your first reflex is to run away when you find out you have feelings for me."

Bellamy glares at him, chastising, and replies, "It was unexpected. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was you." Murphy knows he's lying, even if Bellamy doesn't consciously know, but he lets it slide when he sees the concern in Bellamy's eyes, doesn't refute it any further. Bellamy sighs, gently cradling Murphy's cheek, and adds, "I think more than anything, you make me hope that everything will turn out okay. That it still _can_ turn out okay. I need hope. So I need you." 

Murphy lets the moment pass over him, softer than fur, lets himself live in it for a second, before he's commenting, "Wow, you're getting pretty good at those inspirational speeches."

Of course, Bellamy's glowing gaze drops into a bitch face like no other and he pointedly tacks on, "And apparently I have a thing for emotionally distant assholes."

A grin spreads across Murphy's face at that, and, reluctantly, Bell chuckles a little. His hands find their way to Murphy's waist again, and Murphy moves his right one from Bell's hip to his face.

"Hadn't noticed," Murphy remarks, eliciting a genuine smile from his companion. "Not sure you have much of a choice seeing as we're all pretty fucked up."

"We wouldn't be down here if we weren't, though," Bell points out, leaving the implication floating between them that they would never have gotten this close to each other if it weren't for their absolutely scrambled minds.

So Murphy nods in agreement. Tugs Bell down and kisses him. Just a chaste, casual thing. Like they've been together for years. Then a little harder, almost possessive, a claim on the floppy-haired boy with the smile as patient and gleaming as the moon and the night-worthy flecks of brown that sprinkle his skin like the stars strung up in the sky. When he comes up for air, he feels full, brimming with the light he's been deprived of his whole life.

"You should probably put on that shirt before we get back to camp," he suggests, though he doesn't make any move to pull away and allow Bellamy to do so, lips still just millimeters apart.

Bell makes a face and accuses, "I think you're just scared someone will say we were fucking." 

Murphy rolls his eyes and pushes Bell away as the older man laughs and spreads his arms, and Murphy says, "You're a moron."

"Awww come on, now."

It feels good to smile again.

\----

That night, after Murphy has snuck into his room and curled up under his arm, those impossible words are hushed into Bellamy's ear just as he's slipping off the edge of consciousness.

"I'm in love you, too...dumbass."

Bell's dreams are filled with warmth for the first time in years.


End file.
